


Gods, Do Not Weep (But Mortals Drown In Seas of Tears)

by bukkunkun



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Anger, Break Up, Cancer, Drama & Romance, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, M/M, Major Illness, Memory Loss, Mild Smut, Mood Swings, Non-Linear Narrative, Sad Ending, Science, Separations, Terminal Illnesses, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Unhappy Ending, also has a lot of scientific babble later on so Watch Out, but yeah don't expect to walk away any happier from this, honestly this is about terminal cancer and dealing with it, really sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-07-27 03:13:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7601221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We are not gods—we will <i>never</i> be gods, nor should we wish to be, but we shall be noble as them."</p><p>Dr. Takashi Shirogane, prodigy, oncologist, takes on his first patient: Keith Kogane, diagnosed with stage 2—nearing stage 3—glioblastoma. With great expectations of him, Shiro is determined to save this young man's life.</p><p>But cancer is a disease that spreads, and complications soon arise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Apollo, The Healer

**Author's Note:**

> saved as "it's a motherfucking metaphor.docx" on my laptop and titled similarly on Google docs. ~~no i haven't read/watched the fault in our stars.~~
> 
> so [i'm a jackass](http://bukkun.tumblr.com/post/148027529888/why-bukkun-should-not-be-allowed-to-write-for) who decided it would be """"fun"""" to write a longfic too and i wanted to try nice old classic ship tropes.
> 
> lo and behold, i came up with the worst possible au i could muster, and went, "sure, might as well. i'm gonna need the research for my cancer ~~ish~~ research i'm gonna do for graduate school". two hours of research later i am balls-deep in Regret and Pain and i'm dragging you all down with me
> 
> prepare for a lot of science babble and messy storytelling because im gonna try a different narrative style 
> 
> ~~there will also be porn eventually. so for those looking for it, stay patient lmao~~
> 
> please enjoy

“To first do no harm was the first thing taught to me, a phrase not uttered in the vow we took today, but an unspoken promise to the past, the present, and the future far ahead of us. As the newest generation of healers, we should take the initiative to create a better world, where more and more lives are saved with every coming day. We are not gods—we will _never_ be gods, nor should we wish to be, but we shall be noble as them. Noble as the god Apollo, the healer of Olympus, we will use our hands to heal all ills, and find better ways to let people breathe a little better.”

The stage light on him made him feel warm under his collar. There were roughly four spotlights on him, and the heat was making him sweat more than just his nerves.

He saw her in the crowd, brilliant silver hair and her dark skin beautiful against the white dress she wore proudly, and when their eyes met, she gave him a wave, supportive and jumping a little, and it made him feel a bit better.

“Let’s use our new ability to make life all the better for the people.” He concluded. “Thank you.”

The crowd before him burst into applause, and behind him on individual, stiff chairs with thin cushions, the board officials also rose to applaud him. He smiled at the attention, but he was looking for only one person.

Black hair, beautiful violet eyes. Pale skin, silly crop top jacket.

But of course, he wasn’t there. He hasn’t been, for nearly five years now.

Instead, his eyes settled on her again, laughing softly to see her jumping up and down, clapping delightedly with a huge grin on her face. She looked so proud of him.

He was equally proud and ashamed of himself.

He stepped away from the podium, bringing with him a scant piece of paper with barely anything on it—his speech paper, which mostly consisted of bullet points of the flow, rather than a whole speech. He didn’t even remember half of what he said.

 _We are not gods,_ he remembered, though. _We will never be gods, nor should we wish to be._

Funnily, it was the only thing he remembered with stark clarity.

He got down from the stage to the welcoming embrace of his batchmates, cheerily congratulating him on his speech as he walked back to their seats.

“Takashi Shirogane, board exam top notcher, and batch valedictorian.” The emcee said as he sat back down, and the oathtaking ceremony continued. It dragged on from there, but soon it was over, and he found himself face-to-face with his best friend— _mentor_ —future _boss?_ —the grin on his face matching the one on hers.

“Shiro, I’m so proud of you,” She said warmly, pulling him into a tight hug. “Top-notcher, valedictorian, brand new oncologist. You’re absolutely amazing.”

“Thanks, Allura.” He chuckled, pulling away from her, and she cupped his face in her hands. “I couldn’t have done it without you and Dr. Altea.”

“Call him Alfor,” She giggled, “He’s practically your father.”

“Ex-thesis adviser, future fellowship attending physician and semi-funder qualifies him as ‘practically my father’?” He crossed his arms, mischief in his eyes, and Allura batted his arm lightly.

“With how many Christmases and New Years you spent at our house, Shiro, it does.” Allura huffed, taking his arm—the one that didn’t have his prosthetic on it. “Come on, let’s go find Father and we’ll all have dinner together to celebrate.”

“And then straight to the hospital.” Shiro grinned, and Allura rolled her eyes. “You know I’m right.”

“Yes.” She sighed. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not getting you something nice to celebrate. Come along!”

Shiro laughed, letting her pull him along, but as he looked back at the hall behind him, and swept his gaze over the crowd one last time, and he froze when he caught the flash of red under smooth black hair.

Allura looked back at him, confusion in her eyes, and tugged on Shiro’s wrist.

“Shiro?”

 _He’s not there anymore, Shiro_.

“Shiro.”

_Stop looking for him._

“Shiro!”

 _Kei_ —

Allura picked him up, wrapping her arms around his waist and lifting him deceptively easily, especially in her white cocktail dress and platform heels. Shiro let out a yell of protest, and she put him down, ignoring the stares they got, and the snickers from friends.

“Shiro.” She said again, and he looked back at her, red colouring his cheeks in shame. “Are you alright?”

_He hasn’t been for nearly five years now, thank you._

“Yeah.” He nodded, forcing a smile on his face. “I’m okay. Sorry. Come on, let’s go.”

* * *

It had barely been 24 hours since the celebration dinner Shiro had with Allura and her father and he was already in a white coat, standing at the nurses’ station in their family-owned hospital.

“Hunk, what’ve you got for me this morning?”

“Oh, hey, Doc.” The dark-skinned nurse smiled at him from over the counter, giving him a small wave. “Heard about your oath taking yesterday.” Shiro’s smile widened a little more at that, and a small flush crossed his face. “Nice speech.”

“Thanks.” Shiro said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Honestly, I don't remember half of what I said.”

Hunk laughed kindly. “That's something.” He handed Shiro some forms, already filled out, and flashed him a smile. “Here's to your first year of residency.”

“Thanks.” Shiro nodded. “I'll give them to Dr. Altea.”

“Do your best, buddy.” Hunk cheerfully said. “You'll be stepping foot in the Onco ward as a bona fide attending physician before you know it.”

He's heard it countless times before, but it still warmed his heart.

“Yeah. Have a good day, Hunk.”

“You too.”

Shiro headed into his and Alfor’s office, and as he shut the door behind him, he smiled down at the outpatient forms he held in his hand.

“First year of your life, Doctor Shirogane.” He sighed. “Make it count.”

He took a deep breath, chose the form up top, and opened the door to call the name on it.

“Adriana de Castro?”

He knew the road to the Oncology Ward was a long one, but he knew he could be a patient man.

 _Not a god,_ he reminded himself, _just a dude patient like one._

* * *

Two years later, a fellowship award and a completed residency period under his belt, Shiro couldn't hold his grin down as Allura pinned a glimmering silver nameplate to his white coat.

“Welcome to the Oncology Ward, Doctor.” She warmly said, patting his shoulders. “You did it.” She added in a stage whisper, and Shiro grinned brightly at her.

“Thanks so much.” He weakly said, and after a beat of silence, Allura chuckled, and pulled back, spreading her arms.

“Come on, then.”

Shiro surged forward to hug her tightly, and she laughed gently.

“Ah, can I join in?” Hunk asked, bouncing on his heels from where he stood at the doorway. Shiro looked up from Allura’s embrace and waved him over. He cheered, and Hunk hurried towards them to hug them both tightly, lifting them off the ground. Their laughter echoed in the room, and Alfor smiled at them.

When they calmed down, they pulled apart, sighing.

“Shiro. Dude. You're a legit doctor now.” Hunk grinned, but then he paused. “Uh, not that you weren't a legit doctor before, but like—uh,”

Allura giggled. “Not one with a supervisor attending him.” She said. “Congratulations. How're you feeling?”

“Like I can save _anyone._ ” He grinned. “I'm—I'm feeling really amazing.”

Hunk and Allura’s twin grins made warmth blossom in his heart. “Thanks, guys.”

“No problem.” Hunk grinned.

“Shiro. Congratulations.” Alfor finally said, and Shiro turned to look at him, embarrassed of having practically ignored him for a while. “We’re all very proud of you.”

“Thank you, sir.” He said meekly. “I couldn't have done it without your help.”

Alfor patted his back, and nodded at the three of them. “You're very welcome, my boy, but for now, I do believe it's time to get back to your shifts.”

“Oh!” The three of them perked up, and they all hurried outside. Alfor chuckled to himself, shaking his head fondly, and turned back to his work.

* * *

Allura had hurried off to the pediatrics ward surprisingly fast for a woman on high heels, while Shiro and Hunk headed for the nurses’ station to time in. As they arrived, a pretty young nurse lit up at the sight of Shiro.

“Doctor Shirogane!” She said, waving a folder in the air, “We’ve been looking for you!”

“What's up?” Hunk asked, walking into the station behind her to take the folder from her. He quickly skimmed its contents, and his eyes widened. “Whoa, this is…”

She grinned. “Yeah.” She turned to look at Shiro. “So, the whole hospital knows you're in the Onco ward now. And, miraculously, you've already got someone lined up for you.”

“You've got some _serious_ luck, Shiro.” Hunk grinned. “I'm coming with. You're stuck with me now.”

“I wouldn't have it any other way.” Shiro smiled. He turned to look at the other nurse. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

“No prob.” She gave them a mock salute, and they walked away from the station.

“Hoo, boy.” Hunk whistled as they walked together. “This one’s a little wild, Shiro.”

“Talk me through it, nurse.” He said back at him, and Hunk laughed. “Hey, shut up. I've always wanted to say that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Hunk hummed, but he was smiling. “Alright. Glioblastoma, stage two.”

“Yikes.” Shiro winced. “Good thing they noticed in time.”

Hunk nodded. “The patient was brought to the general ward a while back by his, uh, boyfriend and… huh, wait. This sounds way too familiar.”

Shiro slowed down in front of the ward’s entrance. “What'd you mean?”

Hunk shrugged. “My childhood friend—”

“Ah, that Lance guy?”

“—Lance. Yeah, him? He told me recently about how his boyfriend was complaining about headaches and I said it’s probably because he's really annoying,” Shiro snorted, and Hunk shrugged, “But then he said that joke’s old and so I told him maybe it was cancer, and then just yesterday Lance called me at like, 3 in the morning, crying.”

“Oh, my god.” Shiro breathed.

“Yeah… turns out I was right. The MRI scan results came back to him and there was a tumour in his head.”

Shiro slouched, frowning. “I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, I felt really bad about it too.” Hunk rubbed his arm, his scrubs’ sleeve creasing as he pushed it up his arm, and then it stayed there. “But I guess it's a good thing I said that or else it could've gotten worse.”

“You don't think he's…” Shiro gestured at the ward.

“Not sure. I didn't really know Lance’s boyfriend. He was pretty recent, actually. They'd only been dating for a few weeks, but I know Lance has been pining for longer.”

Shiro hummed, still frowning. “I swear I'll do my best with this guy. For Lance’s sake.”

Hunk gave him a smile. “Thanks, Shiro.”

Shiro patted his arm. “So, what room?”

“This way.”

Hunk led him to a room at the far end of the ward’s hallway, and the two of them stopped and looked at each other.

“Alright.” Shiro huffed. “First patient.”

“You can do this.” Hunk gave him a thumbs-up, and Shiro smiled weakly back at him.

“I can do this.”

 _Not a god_ , he reminded himself, and he pushed the door open.

“Hello, I'm…”

His words died on his lips when he stepped inside, his eyes landing on the patient sitting on the bed across him, meeting with eyes he had so long lost.

Lost for nearly seven years, now.

They were still as bright and violet, just like he remembered them being.

“Oh, hey.” A dark-skinned brunet greeted, wearily sitting up straight from where he'd been slumped against the side of the bed, smiling at him tiredly. “You're… you're the doctor guy, yeah?”

“Ye-yes.” Shiro nodded dumbly, and Hunk stepped inside behind him.

“Hey, Lance.”

“Hey.” The brunet—Lance—greeted him, and stood to accept the hug Hunk gave him.

Shiro still stayed where he stood, rooted to the floor by his shock, as Hunk and Lance parted.

“Um, so yeah.” Lance said, “Doc, I’m Lance McClain. this is Keith Kogane. He's my, uh. Not really boyfriend.”

_Boyfriend._

Keith stared blankly back at Shiro, and his gut wrenched. He wanted to throw up, but all he could do was stare.

Stare at those eyes, that pretty face, his soft, soft hair— _Keith_ , whom he'd missed dearly for too damn long.

He still wasn't over it, he realised. Not when all he wanted was to both run away and to pull Keith into the tightest hug he could muster.

Lance stroked Keith’s side lightly, comfortingly, and Shiro wished that was his hand touching him. “Hey, Keith. Say hi to your doctor.”

Shiro didn't want to hear him speak. He didn't want to even see him.

(He couldn't bear waiting to hear him speak. He couldn't bring himself to look away from him.)

“Hello.” Keith said slowly, much too slowly. “I'm Keith.”

“... Keith.”

How he managed to speak, Shiro didn't know.

Keith nodded, utterly sedate and snail-paced, and Shiro thought, pained, _this was not him_.

“It's nice to meet you.”


	2. acetylsalicylic acid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (acetylsalicylic acid: common name - aspirin.)
> 
> "This is your third aspirin this week, and it's only Tuesday. Are you okay?"
> 
> "My head just hurts. It's been hurting for a few days now."
> 
> He should have noticed it, in hindsight. He should have realised it sooner. The symptoms were right there, the discomfort and the pain already surfacing, the cancer, already manifesting and festering right under his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i said the storytelling isn't linear haha it'll go present - past - present - past in that order.
> 
> here we get a glimpse of shiro's old life with keith, being the Gross Sappy Boyfriend™ he is, and more science babble and broken promises. yippee. THEY HAD A HAPPY DOMESTIC LIFE TOGETHER. W H A T H A P P E N E D
> 
> ~~also i may or may not have based some of the lab assistants on people i actually know ////sweats~~
> 
> science babble explanation in the end notes.

Regrets were always the hardest things to get over. Shiro was a man who lived through them, living so he would have none of them, but pursuing medicine was both his pride and joy, and his biggest regret.

Shiro went to med school for his own reasons. _Everyone_ went to med school for their own reasons.

While he was barely halfway through his undergraduate degree, he decided that after he finishes his first course—bachelor of science in biology—he was off to medical school, partly thanks to his adviser, mostly because of _him_.

“This is your third aspirin this week, and it's only Tuesday.” Shiro said softly, pulling Keith back into his embrace as they stood in front of the— _their_ , it was _theirs_ now—kitchen counter. “Are you okay?”

“My head just hurts.” Keith mumbled back, sipping the mug of tea he made. He snuggled back into Shiro’s chest, sighing. “It's been hurting for a few days now.”

“You been sleeping alright?” Shiro asked, kissing Keith’s temple, and the younger man nodded.

“I've been sleeping early lately, just like you told me, _Doctor_.” He smiled, raising an eyebrow, and Shiro laughed softly into the crook of Keith’s neck. “And anyway, _you_ should speak for yourself. You never sleep these days.”

“Yes, I do.” Shiro pouted, taking the mug from Keith. He sipped from where Keith drank from, and the black-haired man laughed, batting him lightly on his arm. “Mm, tastes like you and leaf water.”

“Don’t be gross, Shiro.” He huffed, taking back his mug—it was Shiro’s, really, the name in Comic Sans MS black over white said as much, but Keith always liked taking Shiro’s things for his own. “And no, you don’t. You like tricking yourself into thinking you sleep properly every day, but you and I both know those power naps you take are bullshit.”

“Your science knowledge is bullshit.” Shiro laughed, and Keith snickered into the rim of his mug. “Okay, fine. I'll start sleeping properly.”

“Mm.” Keith hummed. “That's not promising me anything.”

“Fine, I'll sleep right next to you, like I always do, so you know.” Shiro kissed Keith’s cheek. “Love you, baby.”

Keith did that pleased little hum he always did in response to Shiro’s affection, and he knew it meant _I love you too._ “Will you be home for dinner?” He asked.

Home. The sound of it rolling from Keith’s lips made the thought absolutely blissful.

“You know I will be.”

Shiro pulled away from him, smiling, and the warmth in his chest told him how _perfect_ his life was. How it was so nice to see Keith like this—dressed in Shiro’s shirt three sizes too big for him that it hung on him like a dress, barely covering the bright red shorts he wore underneath. He had just rolled out of bed, his hair a mess, but then again, so was Shiro’s, mostly from running his hands through the shock of white, out of stress, out of bewilderment, out of joy—out of habit, really.

Keith smiled at him sleepily, and turned to head for the bathroom to put the aspirin bottle back in its place in the medicine cabinet. “Great. I bet you're looking forward to microwave dinner.”

“Delicious.” Shiro deadpanned, taking a seat at the kitchen counter, watching Keith return from the bathroom to head to the couch, picking up Shiro’s lab gown, which he had thrown there the night before in a hurry to get into bed with Keith. “I'm already salivating at the thought.”

“Eyes off my ass, Shiro.” Keith rolled his eyes, balling the lab gown up in his hands, before throwing it at Shiro’s face. The older man laughed, pulling it down from his face in time for Keith to press their lips together for a chaste kiss.

“Wasn't looking,” Shiro lied, grinning up at Keith’s smirk. “You making bulgogi tonight?”

“You _wish_.” Keith replied. “We don't have the stuff we need in the fridge.”

“Worth a try.” Shiro shrugged. “Spam it is, then.”

“How the hell are you going to be a doctor like that?” Keith laughed, taking a seat across him. “You eat so much junk and you spend nights at your lab.”

Shiro shrugged. “Would it help if I told you I'm getting through all this on sheer determination,” at that, Keith snorted, “Monster, and you?”

“You're a sap, Takashi Shirogane.” Keith replied, blushing, and Shiro grinned at him.

“I'm in love with my boyfriend and still stuck in that honeymoon stage where I'm still not over the fact we’re living together now?” He ventured, and he enjoyed the way the flush deepened on Keith’s cheeks.

“Only _you_ can say crap like that,” he sighed exasperatedly, kissing Shiro over the counter again, but this time the older man was ready. He got up, their lips disconnecting for a moment and their foreheads knocking together, and Keith huffed in laughter, leaning back up to connect them. Shiro leaned over the counter to pull Keith over it, deepening the kiss they shared until Keith crawled over the counter to get closer to Shiro.

They parted for breath, and Keith grinned up at him.

“Not exactly how I expected my morning to go.” He said, peering at the wall clock behind Shiro’s head. “It's almost 7:45, and you're still not dressed. I'd say that's a new record.”

At that, Shiro jumped, shocked as he pulled away from Keith to look up at the time. “Shit! My hood schedule is at 8!”

Keith was laughing, the bastard, as Shiro ran back into their bedroom, hurriedly grabbing the clothes Keith had laid out for him while he was still asleep.

“You're going to be late.” Keith teased the moment Shiro was out of their bedroom, underwear and a shirt in one hand and his pants slung over his other, looking absolutely not as put-together as he usually was outside their shared apartment.

“I can't help it, you're so distracting.” Shiro shot back, grinning despite his rush into the bathroom to brush his teeth and bathe.

He didn't miss Keith’s raspberry at him as he shut the door behind him.

As he got into the shower, he could hear Keith washing up outside, humming a song he couldn't recognise, soon drowned out by the rush of water over his head as he turned on the shower head. He cleaned himself quickly, militaristic and pragmatic, treating Keith’s mundane chores outside like a race as he hurried to beat him to it, and as he climbed out of the shower he could hear Keith turn the kitchen faucet off. Lost again.

He brushed his teeth, brushed his hair and checked his prosthetic arm, before getting dressed. When he stepped out, smelling of Keith’s shampoo and his soap, he saw Keith loading clothes into their washer.

“Hey.” He greeted, giving his boyfriend a pat on his ass, earning him a halfhearted kick to his shin for his efforts. He laughed, rubbing Keith’s side to soothe him, and Keith straightened up to take his dirty tank top and boxers from him. “See you later, baby.”

Keith hummed, leaning up to kiss him with a smile. “Go discover something cool in the lab today.”

Shiro gave him a grin. “Later this lunch, you'll drop by, right?”

“Of course.” Keith replied. “Like I'll forget.”

“You never know.” Shiro winked, brushing his knuckles over Keith’s cheek. “Bye. Text you later.”

“Bye.”

“Love you.”

Keith gave him _that smile_ that made his knees weak, and his heart flutter.

“Love you too. _That_ , I won't forget.”

“ _Now_ who's the sap?” Shiro laughed, and Keith punched his arm.

“Hood schedule.” He said simply, and Shiro jumped.

“R-right. Bye, Keith!”

He stole a kiss to Keith’s cheek and hurried out the door to the sound of Keith’s laughter.

* * *

He should have noticed it, in hindsight. He should have realised it sooner. The symptoms were right there, the discomfort and the pain already surfacing, the cancer, already manifesting and festering right under his skin.

Keith dropped by that lunchtime, McDonald’s take out and his usual ‘outdoor-scowl’ he wore when not at home, but by now the other people in Shiro’s lab knew he really didn't mean it. Much.

“Hey, Kogane!” One of the research assistants, a dark-skinned young man with a friendly smile waved at him. “Nice of you to show up. We haven't been able to pull Shiro out of the biosafety cabinet room since 8, and Abby would seriously like to use the biosafety cabinet since like, yesterday.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised.” He deadpanned. Abby, a chubby young woman in a green jacket, hurried up to his side, a pout on her lips.

“Can you tell your boyfriend to chill?” She said, “Awesome as Shiro is, we’d all like to get to work too.”

“I keep telling him,” Keith shrugged. “But you know him.”

Abby deflated, and smiled. “Yeah.” She sighed, defeated. “Still. Maybe try convincing him harder?”

“You bet I'll enjoy that.”

The research assistants in the back cackled loudly, and Abby snickered behind her hand. Keith smiled at her, and offered her a French fry.

“Thanks.” She took it from him, ignoring her lab mate’s shout of ‘no eating in the lab!’ to grin at Keith. “Hey, I got an idea. Come into the cabinet room with me and let’s boot Shiro.”

“Sounds great.” Keith shrugged, putting the paper bag of food on a nearby table, before sharply pointing at the gaggle of research assistants and students eyeing it like a hawk. “Behave. That's for Shiro. _Not you, Joyce._ ”

A slim woman whined in protest, but the rest of the lab laughed, as Abby led Keith to a glass door covered up with foil from the inside.

“Take your shoes off and put a lab coat on.” She said, stepping inside, and Keith followed after her after toeing his shoes off. He stepped into a small, white-walled room, and another door was at the end of it. “Shiro’s over there.” Abby pointed at the door. “I know you haven't been in here before, so just be careful and don't touch anything, okay? Slippers are under the gowns.” Keith nodded, and looked for a peg with Shiro’s name above it. A spare lab coat hung on it—the one Keith flung at Shiro that morning, he realised—and he took it, pulling it on to find it was _huge_ on him, and he laughed softly as he chose a fluffy pair of slippers to wear.

Abby pulled on her own coat, and gestured for Keith to follow her through the door. He followed after her, stepping inside to see two biosafety cabinets next to each other in the middle of the room. A sink was at the far corner, and a drawer desk across it, and then a table with equipment Keith wasn't familiar with next to that, ended with a fridge with some magnets on it, and a message written on masking tape: “Carlos: **STOP TAKING MY STUFF.** \- Elle (and Shiro)”. Keith smiled slightly, seeing his boyfriend’s handwriting of his name, significantly smaller than his lab mate’s. A Post-It note was under that: “sorry mom and dad”.

Across the tables and fridge were two huge equipments that reminded Keith of fridges, a cabinet of bottles and paper-wrapped boxes, and a desktop computer, and Keith’s eyes widened to see Shiro standing at the computer, staring intently at a live-capture image of… Keith didn't know what Shiro was staring at, but they were irregularly-shaped, transparent, on a background of transparent pink.

“Yo, Shiro!” Abby called, leaving Keith standing at the door, dumbfounded at the sight of Shiro in his element. Shiro didn't even look away from the image, frowning as he moved something around, and Keith realised Shiro had a transparent flask under a microscope hooked up to the computer. “Shiro!” Abby tried again. “Mr. College of Science For Two Years In A Row!”

“What.” Shiro replied flatly, and Keith couldn't help but chuckle at how disgruntled he sounded.

“Your boyfriend’s back and you’re gonna get in trouble.” She sang, and Shiro grumbled, turning to glower at her, only for his eyes to land on Keith, standing by the door, smiling slightly. Shiro’s eyes widened, a flush crossing his cheeks, and Abby laughed. “Come on, big buddy, get out of the lab and eat your boyfriend.” The two of them spluttered indignantly, and she laughed harder. “Oh, did I say eat your boyfriend? I meant eat _with_ your boyfriend.”

“Trinidad, I’m gonna have your head.” Shiro said, but he was smiling, having not taken his eyes off Keith.

“Yeah, but let me have your cabinet first.” She pushed him off the computer, and took the flask of cells from him. “I’ll even clean your shit up for you, just get out of here.”

Shiro rolled his eyes, but he walked away from her to approach Keith, smiling softly.

“Hey.” He greeted softly, and Keith chuckled.

“Hey.” He replied.

“PDA back outside, people.” Abby interrupted, “You can take a photo of him in your lab gown or whatever outside. My HCT-116 cells stop growing in the presence of lovey-dovey shit.”

Shiro shook his head fondly, and Keith laughed.

“Thanks, Abby.” Keith said, “Come on, Shiro. Let’s go.”

He took Shiro’s hand, and led him back out of the cabinet room. Alone together in the lab coat room, Shiro pulled him close and kissed him, hard.

“You look great in my lab coat.” He murmured to him, and Keith hummed back at him, pleased.

“And you looked great working at the microscope.” Keith replied. “Not a sight I’ll be forgetting anytime soon.”

Shiro chuckled. “I hope not.”

“You know I never forget a good view.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Hoods, biosafety cabinets: [this](http://www.labconco.com/images/cms/large/6logicitem.jpg) is a biosafety cabinet. Particularly, class II, and it's the most commonly used cabinet when handling cell cultures in a research lab. I've used one of these before, and boy let me tell you how low that screen goes and how short my arms are. rip in pieces my primary cell culture. before they became the standard in research, the alternative, less efficient laminar flow hoods were used, and were commonly called "hoods", for short. Which is why Shiro still calls it a "hood schedule", even if he's using a biosafety cabinet, haha. Hell, I call it that too. :^) old habits die hard.
> 
> * **please do not eat in labs. don't be like ~~us~~ abby and eat a fry in the lab**. ~~lmao actually the hood room is separate from the lab and as long as no one is actually working in said "lab", more of like lounge, really, you can eat there.~~
> 
> * Shiro has with him a [cell culture flask](http://www.labdepotinc.com/admin/uploads/standard_1.png) mounted on an [inverted microscope](https://www.tedpella.com/mscope_html/22443-Motic-AE2000.jpg) to take a look at the cells there. [Here's an example of what they look like](https://67.media.tumblr.com/430e76fd9e2dedb6322b670d511bd1d5/tumblr_ob0yalcOJv1rb7985o1_540.jpg), this was taken from my own primary cell culture (which is why it's pretty messy haha).
> 
> * the HCT-116 cell line is a colon cancer cell line.
> 
> haha,,, ,, , ,, , ,, holy shit i clearly love science


	3. temozolomide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (temozolomide: first-line chemotherapy drug for glioblastoma.)
> 
> Lance McClain was a good boyfriend, Shiro thought.
> 
> Doctor Shirogane would have told him what he should have said. But right now, caught in nostalgia, the desperation of the good old days back, and gut-wrenching guilt, the good doctor was out, and left behind only sad, heartbroken young Takashi Shirogane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like klance as much as maybe how much i like dogs. i can appreciate how cute it is, how it's appealing, but it's not really my thing. sorry,
> 
> i like sheith as much as maybe how much i like cats. i fucking love cats. 
> 
> back to sad doctors and more science babble. thanks so much to everyone who's read this! Also, one big shout out to [noct-art](http://noct-art.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for that [photo of arts](http://noct-art.tumblr.com/post/148161214027/we-are-not-godswe-will-never-be-gods-nor-should)!!! Oh my goodness I honest-to-God teared up when I saw it on the sheith tag :'''''') thanks for making my day.
> 
> Also: contrary to popular belief, [I actually headcanon Lance as Filipino.](http://bukkun.tumblr.com/post/147741555158/so-i-just-saw-pinoylance-art-and-boi-let-me-tell) So, there. ~~i like me my representation im so sorry hispanic!lance fans,~~ _Lola_ is "grandma" in Filipino.
> 
>  
> 
> **WARNING: IF THROWING UP/BILE/NEEDLES/BLOOD ~~/LANCE VISIBLY WORRIED AND CRYING~~ AND OTHER SUCH SCENES AND DESCRIPTIONS TRIGGER YOU OR MAKE YOU INCREDIBLY UNCOMFORTABLE IN ANY WAY, PLEASE EXERCISE CAUTION THIS CHAPTER. THANK YOU, AND PLEASE STAY SAFE!**

Lance McClain was a good boyfriend, Shiro thought. He spoke to Keith softly, and held his hand like if he was any rougher, it would shatter.

There came a time, long ago, when Shiro did the same.

“There is no solution to this that doesn't involve chemotherapy, I'm sorry.” He said carefully, fighting the quiver in his voice, the wince that threatened to break his calm facade at the sight of Lance’s hand in Keith’s hair. The brunet’s expression fell, a wall crumbling in the earthquake of the century. “There's the option to excise the tumour—” a glance at Lance told him to revise his words, “ _Remove_ the tumour, I mean,” he amended when he saw Lance’s confused expression. “Remove the tumour from his…” Brain, he should say, clinical and professional, but his heart, stuck still in that time six years ago, where time stopped for him, and the rest of Keith’s life began, couldn't say it.

“His body.” He managed, and Lance looked grateful he chose the word.

Doctor Shirogane would have told him what he should have said: we should excise the tumour from Mr. Kogane’s brain, and supplement him with chemotherapy for a month to completely remove the cancer from his brain.

But right now, caught in nostalgia, the desperation of the good old days back, and gut-wrenching guilt, the good doctor was out, and left behind only sad, heartbroken young Takashi Shirogane. Still mourning the loss of love seven years ago, still stuck wishing for days rose-tinted with joy and love, still foolishly hoping things could have been different.

“So, surgery.” Lance sighed deeply, and in the small gust of wind, warm in the coldness of the hospital room, Shiro felt a gale of worry, pain and weariness escape his body.

Shiro would know.

He felt the same.

Worry and fear, tumultuous and cacophonous, was pregnant in the air between him and Lance, and beneath it all, Keith slept on, expression peaceful. His hair fanned out on the pillow at either side of him, and Shiro tried not to think about the last time he saw it like that. He had fallen asleep after Hunk hooked him up to an IV, and before that, he has emptied out his bowels in a dish right after he said his hellos.

Shiro nodded gravely.

“I… I need a minute.” Lance said, and Shiro could give him all the time in the world to think. He could use some for his own thinking.

Keith didn't remember him. It was only natural, memory loss was one of the symptoms of having a brain tumour. Shiro had yet to see Keith’s MRI scan results, but he knew it was bound to happen, all the same. Glioblastoma was cruel as it was aggressive.

It was nice to meet him, he said, seconds before he doubled over, retching, and Hunk was at his side, pushing away a panicking Lance to hold a pan the hospital kept under the bed for moments like this. Hunk rubbed Keith’s back as he emptied his stomach in the pan, and Lance had looked so frightened. He was pale, and he was shaking, his eyes wide and transfixed on Keith’s suffering. Shiro couldn't tear his eyes away, either.

When Keith was done, there was blood in the pan, but Shiro was grateful Lance hadn't said anything about it. Hunk put the pan aside, and looked at Shiro expectantly.

Oh, that was right. He was a doctor now, and now he didn't have Alfor shadowing his movement.

“Do I get him an IV?” he asked, but Shiro shook his head. “Glass of water, then.”

Shiro looked at Keith, heaving and breathing heavily, slumped against Lance, and he decided to backtrack.

“Um, actually—send in a request for a bag, please. 0.9% sodium chloride, have it at 125mL per hour.” The directions, mercifully, came to him like second nature. Hunk nodded, and he hurried out of the room. Shiro sighed, and gingerly moved the pan away from the bed and on the rack next to the door.

“Keith, you’re okay,” he heard Lance gently tell him, softly, like his touch on his back. “Breathe slowly, yeah, that’s it.” Hunk came back, and Lance let Keith go long enough to let him put an IV in him, talking to his childhood friend all the while, and all Shiro could do was watch.

Watch, as Hunk administered and secured the IV, and gave Lance a supportive smile.

Watch, as Hunk and Lance tucked Keith into bed, eyes lingering too long on the gentle touch Lance gave to his boyfriend.

Watch, as Lance leaned down to press a kiss to Keith’s forehead.

Lance McClaine was a good boyfriend, Shiro thought. Perhaps it was for the best Keith didn’t remember him.

“Okay, um.” Lance finally spoke up, and Shiro was pulled from his thoughts, allowing him a split second to deny what he just admitted to himself.

(No, he didn’t want Keith to forget him. He didn’t want Keith to forget _anything_.)

“I think I should probably talk to Keith about this, but I think it’d be better for him if he had the surgery. And then chemo, and then radio.” Lance said, rubbing his arm. “I mean, I still have to ask Keith if he’s okay with it, but… yeah.” He trailed off, looking sheepish, and Shiro offered him the best smile he could muster. It wasn’t much, but Lance smiled back at him all the same. It was good enough.

“I recommend the same,” he nodded. “Since that’s the usual treatment for it.” He took a deep breath. “Have you ever had experience with a family member or loved one with cancer?” he asked.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Lance leant back in his seat. “My grandmother had breast cancer. She had chemo too, uh. Doxo… um. Rubex.”

“Doxorubicin?” Shiro supplied, and Lance nodded.

“Yeah, that.” His expression was glum. “She lost all her hair and she was sick a lot. I mean, she already was sick with cancer, so that was kind of a stupid thing to say, but like, she threw up a lot and she didn’t feel good—”

“Mr. McClaine.” Shiro interrupted him mildly. “You’ll wake Kei—Mr. Kogane.”

Lance blushed, embarrassed, and he sighed. “You can just call me Lance.” He said, “Can I call you Shiro? Hunk’s told me a lot about you.”

“Of course.” Shiro nodded, and he watched the way Lance looked back down at Keith, worry catching his bottom lip between his teeth, creasing his brow, and his hand curled around Keith’s limp hand, careful not to jostle the IV. He’s seen that look on Lance’s face before, in the times he visited the Onco ward, watching as a husband watched his wife take doxorubicin into her veins, wincing at the pain. Lance was worried, _deathly_ worried for Keith.

If Shiro had been in his place, he would have felt the same.

“You’re worried for him.” He said, foolishly, but mercifully Lance didn’t hold it against him.

“Yeah,” He laughed shakily, wiping at moisture beading at the corners of his eyes. “I’m sorry, I just… we’ve only been dating for a short while but I really, really... love him.” he sighed, “Shit, sorry, you don’t have to hear this mushy crap.”

“No, it’s fine.” Shiro rubbed Lance’s shoulder comfortingly. “I’m glad you’re such a good boyfriend to him.”

“Not really a boyfriend.” Lance laughed bitterly, shrugging his free shoulder. “Keith broke up with me the night before he was admitted.”

Shiro paused. “... I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s just like that. He’ll be back. We have an on-off relationship. Explosive, sometimes, lots of tears.” He sighed, but the way he looked down at Keith told Shiro he loved every moment of it, regardless. “Everyone told me Keith was a bad guy to go for, since his mood is just all over the place, and his memory is shit, but I just… I can’t help it.” He lowered his head, pressing Keith’s hand to his forehead, taking a shuddering breath. “I’ve wanted him for so long.”

_I’ve wanted you for so long, Shiro._

Shiro shut his eyes, and still he saw Keith’s face behind his eyelids, smiling, mouthing the same words Lance said, and his chest ached.

“I know what you mean.” He found himself saying, and Lance laughed sadly.

“Thanks, Doc.” Lance’s smile appeared when Shiro opened his eyes again. “Keith doesn’t have family anymore,” that, Shiro knew, “So it’s just me and a few of our friends here for him. I can’t help but just… freak out. _Lola_ ’s chemo was hard enough, but this? Hah, I…” He shook his head. “I think I’d break.”

“I’ll save his life.” Shiro declared. “I promise.”

Lance’s eyes were shining with tears, and Shiro silently thanked any god listening to him his own were not.

“His medicine will be this drug called temozolomide,” he explained, “It’s a drug used the same way doxorubicin is, but its side effects—nausea, vomiting—are easily controlled.” The relief in Lance’s eyes felt like a punch to his gut. “We’ll have to give him another medicine, an antiemetic, to ease the effects.”

“Oh, thank God.” Lance breathed, an exhale that felt like it had been held in for too long. “Thank you so much, Doc Shiro.”

“I’ll do whatever I can to give him maximum treatment.” Shiro said. “Please rest easy.”

“You have _no idea_ ,” Lance breathed, getting up to grasp Shiro’s hands. “Thanks _so much_.”

Shiro gave him a shaky smile, and tried not to think about the high recurrence rate of glioblastoma, or the survival rate. He switched his mind to other things—Keith’s recovery, Lance’s joy—

And him, returning home to his—no longer _their_ —apartment, still alone.

Now was not the time to be petty, he thought. This was a patient’s life he held in his hands, and he _will_ be successful. He will do _anything_ to save Keith’s life.

As he stepped out of the room, leaving Lance and Keith to their privacy, Shiro made a beeline for his office, and locked the door behind him, slamming his back against it, before pressing the heel of his hands over his eyes. Cold metal prosthetic met his right eye, and warm—nearly _hot_ —skin met his left eye, and Shiro shuddered.

Took a breath, once, twice.

 _Not gods,_ he had said two years ago to a crowd of young, hopeful, bright-eyed doctors. _Never be gods._

How he wished he was one right now.

And he finally let himself break down.

* * *

Later, he pulled himself together, and headed off towards the emergency ward. He had no other patients, but he was on call. Hunk would let him know if he was needed anywhere.

He threw himself into menial consultations instead, intent on forgetting Keith being admitted into the hospital.

“Alright, Mr. Ishigaki, I'll give your daughter something for her asthma and cold.” He said, writing his prescription down. “This one—carbocisteine—is for her cough. I've put in a specific brand that handles asthma too, but if you’d opt out of this brand, I have this,” he pointed at the next one, “Salbutamol, as a separate drug if it makes expenses easier for you. The first one has both already in it, though.” Shiro handed him the prescription. “One capsule, three times a day after meals.”

“Thank you so much,” the young man across him said, and he looked impossibly young to have fathered the little girl on his lap. But Shiro wasn't one to judge. “Ricki, c’mon. Say thank you to the nice doctor.”

“Thank you.” The little girl said, and Shiro gave her a kind smile.

“Here.” He handed her a packet of throat lozenges he kept on his desk. “They taste kind of weird, but they'll help with your throat. Cherry flavour.”

She gave him a wide smile, and Shiro chuckled at the sight of her tooth gap and overbite.

Her father gave one last bow at Shiro, and tugged gently on the girl’s hand to lead her out of the consultation room. She waved at Shiro cheerfully, in her hand the lozenge packet, and Shiro gave her a small wave back, watching them go until the door shut behind them. He sighed deeply, and leant back against his chair.

“There's no escaping you, Keith, is there?” He murmured into the cold air.

The man—the little girl’s father—looked like Keith. The hair, the skin—only his eyes were mercifully different, a deep black in place of violet. The way he spoke was the same as Shiro remembered it, too. Slightly rough, halting and awkward, clearly ashamed of being so young and taking care of a little girl probably half his age, but Shiro looked past that to realise he was probably a _single father._

He thought back to the sight of how he held his daughter. Loving, caring, worried about her health. It was probably his first time having to take her to the hospital for something.

Keith would have done the same, Shiro thought. He would be so worried, so scared, he'd probably cry—

Shiro shook his head. “Stop thinking.” He growled, “Just. Stop it.”

But his mind continued. He thought about the orange warmth of dusk streaming into a classroom through wide, uncovered windows, tears rolling down Keith’s youthful face, and the cover of a book he'd long forgotten, shelved into the back end of his bookshelf, and the first few words uttered after their first proper kiss.

_I've wanted you for so long, Shiro._

Now, Shiro felt the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Science babble this time isn't too much.
> 
> *The IV. Shiro had Hunk administer a 0.9% saline solution IV just to keep Keith hydrated properly. The rate he prescribed is for regular dehydration, and it's also so that the water doesn't flood Keith's veins, since it drops via gravity. :^)
> 
> *Doxorubicin is a pretty popular drug for chemotherapy, it's used in so many kinds of cancers, from breast cancer to leukaemia, but not in brain cancer, like Keith's glioblastoma. Lance's lola had breast cancer.
> 
> now, other notes:  
> *Shiro volunteering in the gen admission ward is something I took liberties with, because I don't know if that's allowed. :^)))) Technically I think it's okay, considering Shiro _did_ spend a year there, so I gues....... ye? I like the idea of Shiro wanting to help out as much as he can so when he's not doing anything in the onco ward it's off to the emergency/gen ad ward to help with the load there. What a guy.
> 
> *Ricki and her father are two of my OC's in a sci-fi novel I'm currently developing for over a year now. A few more of them will show up eventually. 
> 
> *In case anyone was curious, Pidge is a pathologist and Coran is either part of the legal team, or head nurse. I haven't quite decided yet. They'll show up eventually.


	4. the emperor of all maladies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (the emperor of all maladies: the biography of cancer.)
> 
> “I want to ask you not to go.”
> 
> “I'm not going to Pluto, Keith.”
> 
> “It sure feels that way.” He said. “You're always so far ahead of me, Shiro, it's so hard to keep up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: i have never read this damn book. :^))))
> 
> g o o d n e s s gracious,,,, enrollment for the next semester was a n i g h t m a r e and thesis meetings/hood schedules/teaching meetings were h e l l................. hello friends i am back with an update!!!!!
> 
> it took a while for a few reasons, first three are those ↑ and the next is: POKEMON GO FINALLY CAME OUT IN MY COUNTRY SO OF COURSE ALL I DID WAS PLAY THE DAMN POWKEYMAN GAME HAHAHAHA T E A M V A L O R 
> 
> another reason was that i worked more on my novel than this fic (lmao sorry,,,) so ye............... still, mildly fluffy(?) sheiths ahead. some crying. not a single word of science babble this time. just good old fashioned angsty ~~ish~~ sheiths. 
> 
> with bonus kerberos mention. watanays.

The past felt so long ago when you didn't look back on it much.

He remembered how he got together with Keith. It was his last year in senior high, and Keith was an underclassman, a freshman. Even way back when they were younger, Keith had always been such a magnet for trouble, and in their time together in senior highs half was spent in the disciplinary office, with Keith holding a slip to an exasperated Shiro, like routine, for weeks on end.

“You're graduating soon, right?” Keith asked, arms crossed on the table and his chin resting on them, looking up at Shiro with wide, curious eyes. His feet swung under the table, and his homework lay forgotten, completed, on the desk next to him.

Shiro looked up from the book he was reading, _The Emperor of All Maladies_ , to see Keith staring at him. He slipped his bookmark—a creased bookstore receipt for a textbook—into his book before shutting it.

“Yeah.” He nodded, “Your homework done?”

Keith lazily pointed at the papers on the table next to him.

“Good.” Shiro nodded, before looking at the wall clock at the far end of the room. “You've got an hour to go. Hope you brought a book.”

Keith shrugged, though without moving his head from where it rested made him look like he was using his whole body to shrug. “Don't have one.”

Shiro huffed, amused, “I could let you borrow one.”

“Don't really like reading.” He said. “Read to me?” He asked, gesturing at the paperback in Shiro’s hands.

The older teen looked down at the book he was holding. “I don't think you'll like this.” He said, “It’s about cancer.”

“Looked like a sci-fi novel.” Keith hummed. “What's a malady?” He asked, cocking his head slightly, blinking those wide violet eyes.

Shiro chuckled softly. Keith could be cute without realising it.

“An illness.” He replied. “And I gotta agree with the book. Cancer’s a pretty big deal.”

“Yeah?” Keith raised an eyebrow. “Talk to me about that?”

“Why are you so insistent today?” Shiro chuckled, but his smile disappeared when he saw the utter seriousness in Keith’s eyes. “… Keith?”

“I'm just… interested.” Keith replied softly. “What's it like? Does it hurt?”

Shiro swallowed nervously. “Are you okay?”

He should have wondered, from then, if Keith had been carrying his own emperor within himself. If Keith had already felt his pincers rooting into his flesh, rotting him from the inside out. If Keith’s burden was something he just always knew he had, unable to place a name to it for lack of knowledge, or awareness, maybe.

“I just had this feeling.”

“Of what?”

There was a beat of silence, and Keith quietly said, “My head hurts.”

Shiro, young, foolish, and not knowing any better, replied, “I have some aspirin in my bag.”

Keith shook his head. “I'll be okay.” He said.

(No, he won't be. But neither of them would know that for a long time coming.)

“Okay.” Shiro should have pushed. Should have insisted. But he stayed quiet instead.

They sat in a silence that wasn't awkward, but that wasn't quite comfortable either. It felt like a missed opportunity, like a paper fluttering to the ground, just out of reach, slipping like water between fingers.

It felt like an eternity in that easy, uneasy silence between them, when Keith spoke again.

“Shiro?”

“Keith.”

“You're graduating soon.”

Once asked as a question, now a statement. Resignation to something unspoken between them, defeat set in his voice.

Wait, _defeat_?

Shiro did a double take when he saw moisture sparkle in the corner of Keith's eyes. He blinked once, and it was gone.

“Yeah.” He repeated, and it sounded like a second chance. Another attempt at a conversation heading nowhere and everywhere at the same time. “I'm going to miss you.”

Keith's eyes widened beautifully. Perhaps _this_ was what he was waiting for him to say. A gentle flush crossed his cheeks, pink like the day they first met as little boys, the sun setting and dyeing the world in pastel shades, muted by the haze of memory.

Keith had been crying, then. A little boy who lost his little red ball, and Shiro had been crying, too, having lost his grandfather to the emperor of all maladies.

Now, Keith was crying again. This time because Shiro was leaving.

Shiro stood up from where he sat at the teacher’s table, watching Keith straighten up in his seat. He took the seat of the table in front of Keith’s and turned it around, sitting across him.

“I won't go far away,” he promised, his tongue heavy in his mouth as he spoke. “I'll come visit you every week.”

“But I'll _miss_ you.” Keith replied weakly, and Shiro had to convince himself it was the headache Keith claimed, or he would assume it was due to their proximity.

“I know, Keith. I know.” Shiro’s hand reached up to hold Keith’s, but he hesitated, and moved it to his shoulder.

But Keith, mercifully for the both of them, was the more courageous of the two.

He leaned to the side, and grasped Shiro’s hand to press against his cheek. It wasn't where Shiro had intended to put it, but he wasn't about to complain. He thumbed away at the moisture at the corner of Keith’s eyes, and thought about how much he wanted to kiss him.

“I want to ask you not to go.”

“I'm not going to Pluto, Keith.” He chuckled softly, but his heart leapt to his throat when Keith looked right at him, violet eyes locking his own black ones in place.

“It sure feels that way.” He said. “You're always so far ahead of me, Shiro, it's so hard to keep up.”

They shouldn't be doing something this intimate during after school detention. Any moment, a teacher could come in, and would ask the perfect student disciplinary committee president why he was sitting in front of their resident delinquent, ask why their faces were so close like this, and why it was so damn easy to simply lean forward and kiss him.

“You don't have to catch up.” He heard himself saying, but he paid more attention to the way his forehead rested against Keith’s burning warm forehead. “You can do things at your own pace, in your own time. I'll wait for you.”

“No,” Keith said, and Shiro was thankful he didn't pull away. “I… I want to be _next_ to you. I don't want to be left behind you.”

“You will, someday, just not now.” He promised. “Patience. You're freaking out, Keith, focus.”

“I can't focus if it's about you.” He admitted, and Shiro’s heart stopped. “I might as well burn this bridge while I'm on it.”

“Keith—”

Keith leaned up and pressed their lips together.

Their first kiss was dry, chapped lips against dehydrated ones, and chaste. Fast, brief like a gust of wind, and Keith stole back, panting heavily, like he had run a mile, instead of kissing his childhood friend.

Shiro blinked back at him, and he thought, how lovely Keith’s cheeks looked flushed pink, warmly coloured in the oranges of the setting sun pouring in from outside.

“ _Say something_.” Keith’s voice was strained. Begging.

“I've loved you since the moment I met you.” He replied, the confession rolling off his tongue so incredibly easy, and the way Keith’s eyes widened told Shiro to lean back in, and kiss him again.

Keith slotted against him so easily, softly and slowly, and Shiro's eyes slid shut, sweet warmth lulling him into blissful calm.

He saw their future, together, flash behind his eyelids. Keith, smiling as they held hands, lying down and looking up at the night sky, drawing new constellations atop the hood of a beat-up car. Shiro, puzzling over an IKEA furniture instruction manual while Keith laughed on behind him. Keith, lying beneath him, cheeks flushed and body sated, smiling blissfully. Shiro, holding Keith’s hand as they wore matching rings.

Love felt like death, he realised. While in death, your past flashes before your eyes like a hyper-speed movie, in love, your future flashes before your eyes like an outpour of heavy monsoon rain.

It was beautiful, he thought, pulling away and opening his eyes to see Keith looking back at him, tears collecting in his eyelashes, in the corner of his eyes, but a smile was on his face.

“I've wanted you for so long, Shiro.” He breathed, an admission that seemed to have surprised himself more than Shiro. “Don't go.”

“I won't.” Shiro told him, cupping Keith’s face in his hands. “Keith—”

This was such a stupid idea, his voice in his head told him.

“Live with me. The moment you're out of the system. Move in with me.”

But stupid ideas were sometimes good ones, another voice said in his head.

“ _Yes_.” Keith breathed, and as they kissed again, Shiro realised whose voice it was in his head.

It was Keith’s.

* * *

Keith moved in with him on his sophomore year in college, while Keith had been on his senior year. It felt like a dream come true, to hand Keith his own set of keys to his— _their_ —apartment. He was probably grinning like a loon as he let Keith inside, carrying one of his two bags with him, and he thought the look of wonder on Keith’s face made him look all the more beautiful in the morning light streaming in from the windows. He set Keith’s bag down on the ground gently, before standing next to his boyfriend, grinning. He wrapped his arm around Keith’s shoulders and waited for him to speak.

Keith dropped his bag with less finesse, and looked around, but he leaned against Shiro’s chest.

“You cleaned up.” Was the first thing out of Keith’s mouth, but Shiro didn't reply, opting instead to take his face in his hands and kissing him deeply. He swallowed the pleased hum Keith made, stepping even closer to him to wrap his arms around Keith’s waist. The younger man wrapped his arms around Shiro’s nape, and they kissed for a long moment, before physiology demanded them to part for air.

“Welcome home.” Shiro said warmly, pressing their foreheads together, and Keith chuckled.

“Good to be home.” He replied softly, and Shiro knew he meant _good to have a home_. They stayed standing like that, relishing each other’s company in their very own shared space, and he sighed. “Shiro?”

Shiro hummed, stroking the small of Keith's back under his shirt with his thumb absently.

“I'm really… _really_ happy.” He confessed, “We're finally… here. Together.”

“Me too.” Shiro murmured, planting a kiss on Keith’s cheek. “I can't wait to wake up next to you in the morning.”

“Can't wait to make your breakfast. Steal it.” Keith agreed, and Shiro chuckled.

“Can't wait for your microwave dinners.”

Keith finally laughed, soft, but easy, and Shiro felt warmth blossom in his chest as he pulled away, cupping Keith’s face in his hands. “You're beautiful, Keith.” He said, utterly sincere and loving, and he stroked Keith’s cheek with his thumb. “Thank you for moving in with me.”

“No, Shiro.” And Keith was crying again, just silent tears rolling down his cheeks and onto Shiro’s hands. He reached up to squeeze Shiro’s hands, pressing them closer to himself, and Shiro’s heart felt like it was blocking his throat. “Thank _you_. For giving me a home.”

“I…”

“Not just a living space, but…” Keith pressed his hand over Shiro's heartbeat, feeling it thunder and pulse, thriving and _alive_ , under his palm. “You. Anywhere you are is home for me. Thank you.”

Shiro was crying, too, and Keith leaned up to kiss his tears away.

“I love you.” Shiro choked, hugging Keith close, and Keith hugged him tightly back.

“I love you too.” He said, his voice cracking at the edges, and Shiro thought he could get used to this.

He could get used to a life with Keith. He would love every single moment of it.

* * *

Later, late for a lazy Saturday lunch and curled up together in their bed, Shiro woke up from the most restful sleep he had had since he first kissed Keith. Keith remained asleep in his arms, now just wearing his v-neck and red shorts, and Shiro found himself smiling at the sight of him so peaceful there, in his arms like he was born to be there.

It just _fit_ him to be there, Shiro thought.

He leaned down slowly to kiss Keith, but as he pulled away he groaned softly, stirring awake.

“... Shiro?”

“What do you want for lunch?” He asked.

“Mm, anything you want.” Keith mumbled, before wincing.

Shiro frowned slightly. “You okay?”

“My head just hurts.” Keith said, sitting up. Shiro followed his example, rubbing his back comfortingly. “You have aspirin in the bathroom, right?”

Shiro nodded. “I'll get Chinese take-out?”

“Yeah, why not.” Keith grinned at him, kissing him one last time before getting out of bed. Shiro watched him head to their bathroom, and he sighed, looking around their bedroom.

His eyes landed on his bookshelf, where _The Emperor of All Maladies_ lay, toppled over his other books, and he smiled slightly.

Once upon a time, that book gave him happy memories.

Now, wrapped in brown paper and hidden from view on his bookshelf, all Shiro could think of was what could have been.

It would do for him to burn it, or in the least get rid of it, but he couldn't.

Because somewhere deep inside of him, he still foolishly believed miracles could happen.


	5. melatonin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (melatonin: the sleep/wake cycle hormone. controls the circadian rhythm.)
> 
> Keith was awake. He would have to _talk_ to Keith. 
> 
> “Is there something wrong with me, Hunk?” He asked flatly. 
> 
> “It's Keith, isn't it?” Hunk asked, and Shiro winced. Trust Hunk to hit the nail right on the head. “You worried about him or something?”
> 
> “I just…” it wasn't time to tell Hunk yet. Not that Hunk wasn't ready to listen to his woes, but that he wasn't ready to face them yet. “It's not that simple.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmmMMMMM!!!! MY GOD!!!! it's been ages since i updated and i didn't even get to participate in sheith week because!!! fukcn, , , ,,, , ,, grad school............................ it is kicking my ass,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, ~~also my novel but who cares about that lmao~~ anYWAY SO HERE I AM AGAIN IM NOT DEAD LOL HERE'S A NEW UPDATE I'M SORRY I TOOK AGES LMAO
> 
> it's back to the angst lmao there isn't much science in it either. i Hate,
> 
> please enjoy,

Shiro woke up from fitful, tiring sleep at 2:37AM, red LED lights burning into his vision from the darkness that shrouded his apartment. He groaned, turning in his bed to try and fall back to sleep, but what plagued his dreams plagued his waking mind. Keith’s face was in his thoughts, the image branded like a burn behind his eyelids, his age-old smile superimposing in the sickly, _dying_ Keith he met in the hospital.

He grumbled in frustration, and after an hour of unsuccessfully trying to fall back asleep, he rolled out of bed. He headed to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water, and after downing the whole thing in one go, he picked up his phone from the nightstand. No messages. A Facebook notification from his parents back in Japan about Pokemon Go and a pikachu his mother caught in the hot springs.

He sighed, and sat back down on his bed, fisting the sheets as he tried to calm himself down, tried to reel his mind back from thoughts of Keith.

But that, he knew, was impossible. Keith had always taken up so much space in his head. Whatever space medicine hadn't taken up, the memory of Keith consumed, his bright burning red oozing between the cracks of his heart, consuming all of what it could offer.

Even until now, it seemed.

Shiro shook his head angrily, and got up once more, heading this time to the punching bag hung up in the corner of the apartment. He pulled on his gloves, and began to train.

Just to keep his mind off him, he reasoned.

He tried not to think it was himself he was beating up.

* * *

Keith woke up early the next morning, according to the message Hunk sent him as he was on his way to the hospital. _Around 2:40AM_ , Hunk had said. He was about to mount his motorcycle when Hunk texted, and it took him five more minutes of staring at his phone to get over the initial shock.

Keith was awake. He would have to _talk_ to Keith.

In the back of his mind, Shiro heard a voice telling him it wasn't probably a coincidence. He ignored it.

Hunk also told him he had a new patient, one he would work with alongside Allura, a little boy with leukaemia. Shiro sighed, revving up his engine.

He was grateful for the distraction his second patient could afford him, but hearing about children with such a terrible disease still sent his heart plummeting to his gut. Still, thinking of the boy meant keeping his mind off Keith, and Shiro managed to convince himself to look forward to coming to work, if it meant working with Allura.

He arrived at the hospital before his required time-in, as always, and greeted the girl at the reception area on his way in.

“Hey, Doc!” She waved at him, “Early, as always.”

He gave her a tired smile. “A bachelor’s life for me.” He said, and she laughed.

“If I wasn't gay, sir.” She winked at him. “You'll find someone, someday. Maybe.”

“Gee, thanks.” He flatly replied, but he was smiling. “Hunk come in yet?”

“Doc, a better question would be if Hunk has even left yet.” She sighed, and Shiro winced.

“Oh, alright.” He said. “Thanks for the heads-up. Have a good morning, Maureen.”

She waved at him, and he walked on by, making a beeline for the oncology ward, passing by the nurse’s station to see Hunk slumped over a table in the back, sleeping like a log and dead to the world. He smiled softly, patting Hunk’s back and giving the attending nurse there a grin and a thumbs-up, before he continued to the oncology ward.

Halfway through the doorway, he met up with Allura, the much taller woman falling in step with him, and he gave her a smile.

“Good morning.” He greeted, and she cupped his face in her hand, fanning him with the folder she held in her other hand. The two of them came to a stop at the side of the corridor.

“Shiro, you look terrible.” She said instead, and Shiro laughed tiredly.

“I _knew_ Maureen knew I looked like hell.” He chuckled. Allura shook her head, and ran her hand through Shiro’s hair, unknotting a few kinks in it. “That bad?”

“Not quite as your first year here,” she said, and he huffed.

“Good enough for me.” He shrugged, and Allura glowered at him.

“Were you able to sleep last night?” She asked, and he sighed as his answer. Her brow creased in worry. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” Shiro lied, “I just had a bad night’s sleep.” He took her hand, and pulled her into the ward’s corridor. “Since you're already here, I guess we’re going to go look at the kid first?”

Allura didn't reply immediately, taking a moment to look at him worriedly, but Shiro refused to meet her eye. She sighed.

“Yes.” She eventually said, handing him a folder. “He was admitted here just this morning, transferred in from home treatment.”

Shiro frowned, and read through his profile. 7, turning 8 in a few weeks, diagnosed with acute myeloid leukaemia when he was 6. Parents were vineyard owners and winery business moguls, spends his days with his model brother. “Meds not cutting it out for him?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “This kid has a movie for a life.”

“Shiro, be serious for a moment.” Allura scolded him, but only lightly, before nodding gravely. “And yes. We've drawn blood from him and sent some samples to Pidge to figure out what’s wrong, but for the time being, I suppose it would do his brother good to speak with an oncologist.”

“Where’s his old one?”

Allura peered at him sheepishly. “Debarred for malpractice.”

“Oh, my god.” Shiro’s gut clenched. “Poor kid.”

She nodded again. Shiro shut the file sheepishly. “Do you think the cells turned resistant?”

“I hope not.” She replied, before biting her lip in thought. “Else this could get terrible quickly.”

Shiro gave her a supporting pat to her arm. “Let's go talk to them, then.”

Allura led him to a room—a few doors before Keith’s, and Shiro flinched at the sight of Lance standing outside it, a plastic bag of food hung on his elbow and frowning slightly at his phone. The brunet turned to see him, and he managed a smile on his face, giving Shiro a wave.

“Good morning, Doc Shiro.” He greeted.

“Hey.” Shiro waved back at him weakly. “I'll be with you in a little while, I have another patient to look at.”

“Sure thing.” Lance nodded, “Do your best.” He gave Shiro a thumbs-up, and turned back to look down at his phone.

“He sounds very likeable.” Allura commented mildly, and Shiro shrugged. “Though, at first glance he seemed to be the type to flirt with people.”

“Well, he's unavailable right now, so I don't think he'll try with you.” Shiro replied.

“A _friend_ of yours?” The smile on Allura’s face was lopsided, knowingly mischievous, and Shiro could nearly laugh at how wrong she was.

“Patient’s boyfriend.” It hurt to say that, but Shiro had no right to complain. Hasn't had for a few good years now.

“Oh.” Allura hummed. “Do you…” She gestured at the unknowing Lance, but Shiro shook his head. She stopped there, dropping the subject entirely, and gestured at their next patient’s room. “Let's go in then, shall we?”

Shiro nodded, and followed her inside, trying hard not to think about Keith and his own suffering in the adjacent room.

“Hello,” he said, as he stepped inside, meeting wide, worried green eyes, and he had never been so grateful for change. “I’m Takashi Shirogane. I'll be your oncologist from now on.”

* * *

He didn't have a chance to say that to Keith, he realised, later on, after discussing the boy and his chemotherapy treatment to his older brother. He knew most of it flew over his head, but Shiro was thankful all the same that despite his lack of training in the sciences his brother's worry was enough to keep him up and aware of Shiro’s new prescribed plan—multiple medicine remedy. Allura also offered her expertise on how the boy would react to the drug, as compared to how an adult would, and prescribed the according treatment to maximise recovery and minimise pain and discomfort.

Smiling back at the little blond boy giving him a weak wave, Shiro headed out after Allura back into the hallway. Lance was gone—presumably back into Keith’s room—but Shiro could see Hunk heading towards them from the far end of the hallway.

“Thanks for your help, Allura.” Shiro smiled at her, and she nodded.

“I'll have someone tell you when Pidge is done with their analysis.” She said, patting his arm. “And, Shiro, lunch.”

“I'll see if I can make it.” He replied.

“No.” She looked dead set, determined. “That wasn't an invitation.”

Shiro gulped. He knew that tone. It was her ‘I'm not taking “no” for an answer’ tone, and Shiro knew he wouldn't hear the end of it if he didn't go.

“Yes, ma'am.” He weakly slouched, and she gave him a supportive smile and a pat on his cheek.

“I'll see you later. Hello, Hunk!”

“Hey.” The nurse smiled at her sleepily. “Man, you look beat.” He told Shiro, and Allura gave him a look that definitely said, ‘I told you so’.

“Lost a few hours of sleep.” Shiro replied, shooting Allura a pleading look. “Don't worry about it, I'm fine.”

Hunk raised an eyebrow at that, but Allura patted his arm.

“I should get going,” she said, smiling at him. “I'll see you later at lunch, Shiro!”

“Yeah, yeah…” Shiro sighed, watching her leave. He turned to see the concerned look Hunk was giving him, and gave him a pout. “Is there something wrong with me, Hunk?” He asked flatly.

“It's Keith, isn't it?” Hunk asked, and Shiro winced. Trust Hunk to hit the nail right on the head. “You worried about him or something?”

“I just…” it wasn't time to tell Hunk yet. Not that Hunk wasn't ready to listen to his woes, but that he wasn't ready to face them yet. “It's not that simple.”

Hunk gave him a knowing smile, and he squeezed his shoulder. “Coming from a guy like you, Shiro, it never is.” He said in that sagely way that made him sound much older than he was. Wiser. Shiro wished he could be nearly half as understanding as Hunk was. “Okay, I can wait until you're ready to spill. Just know that I'm right here for you, my dude.”

Shiro managed a weak smile. “You're the best, Hunk.”

“Yeah, I figured.” He joked, “C’mon, then. Let's go talk to Keith and Lance.”

Hunk took his hand and led him gingerly to Keith’s room, even opening the door for him, and Shiro felt ashamed he needed to be coddled like this.

Lance had been talking to Keith in hushed tones, their conversation dying down the moment Hunk and Shiro stepped inside. The two of them looked up at Shiro, who gave them a small smile before standing at the foot of Keith’s bed.

“Hey.” Lance greeted, before nudging Keith’s side.

“Hello.” Keith said slowly, softly.

“… Hi.” Shiro breathed. “You're awake.”

“Yeah.” Keith nodded, sluggish as his speech, and Shiro fought the frown that threatened to spread across his face. This _wasn't_ Keith. Not _his_ Keith, anyway.

Glioblastoma multiforme had a myriad of symptoms—memory loss, chronic headaches, altered personality. It was bad enough Keith forgot him, it was probably even worse that Keith was almost a completely different person entirely.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sleepy.” Keith looked at the IV on his arm. “A little hungry.”

“We've had breakfast an hour ago.” Lance supplied, and Shiro nodded.

“That's good.” He pulled up a chair and sat at Keith’s other side, glancing at Hunk as he checked Keith’s IV bag. “Hunk, you might need to change that soon.”

“I'll get a bag ready.” Hunk cheerfully replied, before heading out.

“What's going to happen to me?” Keith asked the moment Hunk shut the door behind him.

“Lance hasn't told you yet?” Shiro raised an eyebrow at him. Here, he expected Keith to grin slightly, cocking his head with a rebuttal that was confident and teasing, but Keith simply shook his head. There was a long stretch of silence before Shiro realised he had to speak again. “Alright. Keith, we'll need to perform surgery on you and take the tumour out of your body.” He said slowly, carefully, and Keith simply nodded. “Then, you'll be on chemotherapy for two weeks, and then radiotherapy for another week, before you get out of the hospital.”

“I'll… have surgery.” Keith said, and Shiro nodded.

“And then chemotherapy.”

Keith’s hands balled into fists in his sheets, the first show of emotion Shiro had seen him make as of late. “Will it hurt?”

Lance was quick to rub his back reassuringly, but Keith looked right at Shiro. His eyes were pleading, and Shiro could almost see him making the exact same face, almost a decade ago, with him in the hospital gown and Keith on the chair next to him.

He blinked, once, twice—to get rid of the memory’s image swimming before his eyes, and cleared his throat.

“I will do whatever I can in my power to make it easy for you.”

Keith’s answering smile felt like a knife right into his gut.

“Thank you.” He said softly, and it felt like the knife twisted, and dug around in him.

Shiro forced a smile on his face. “I'll make a schedule with the operating room and an oncosurgeon for you, and I'll be back to tell you when the operation will be. After we remove the tumour from you, we'll have it sent to a pathologist so we can see how to care for it and how far along you really are.” He watched as Lance’s hand rested on Keith’s, squeezing, reassuring, and he tore his gaze away from it. “You'd been identified as a stage two, from your MRI scan, and I agree, but it's always safer to double-check.”

Keith nodded slowly. “I see.”

There was nothing else to talk about, after that. Shiro’s job was done again for the day, and he had a surgery schedule to give. All he had to do was leave, just carry himself out the door, have Hunk tell them the schedule later—

Yet Shiro couldn't move. He wanted to stay, he wanted to _talk_ to Keith, but he should know better. He was his patient now. It would be unethical to dig up graves long buried underneath the soil.

“Ah, um, doc?” Lance suddenly said, and Shiro felt like he was slapped.

“Y-yes?”

“I'll be gone for a few days.” He said, looking apologetic, as Keith rested his forehead against his shoulder. “I'm an aircraft pilot, see, so my schedule’s pretty erratic, and I'm sometimes gone for days on end.” He scratched the back of his neck. “If the surgery falls on a day I'm gone, is it too much to ask you to be there for Keith for me?” He blushed slightly, when Keith planted a soft kiss to his cheek. “Heh, thanks, babe.” He chuckled.

Shiro swallowed. It was easy to say no, that it really wasn't his obligation to actually _stay_ there with him, there were nurses and volunteer dogs exactly for that purpose—

“Sure,” he said, his breath a nail in his coffin. “I'll be there for him, I promise.”

Every word, a nail driven in, until his promise nailed his coffin shut.

Lance’s smile was _radiant._ “Thank you so much.”

Shiro shrugged weakly, and Keith gave him a smile.

“You really are the best doctor I know.” He said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not too much science babble in this chapter either haha:
> 
> *drug resistance can be built by cancer cells, kinda similarly to how bacteria also gain drug resistant strains. cancer cells can tolerate up to a certain concentration of a drug, so if the drug administered isn't enough to clear the whole lot out, the surviving population will multiply, so all the cells left inside would no longer be affected by the drug that's administered. this is actually why these days treatment of cancer is done with multiple drugs, or coupled with surgery. though, of course, in shiro's pedia patient, surgery isn't quite an option. :^)
> 
> other notes:  
> *mmmMMMMM!!!! MY TWO OTHER OC'S HAHAHAHA!!!!! if anyone's read [my sheith porn](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7518058) they're the pair of prince brothers on the bird planet they visited lmao they're also characters in my sci-fi novel. uwu


	6. under the knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ([to go] under the knife: undergoing surgery, and the hardest things in life.)
> 
> The best doctors were those who didn't bite off more than they could chew.
> 
> The best doctors were not cowards who only knew how to hurt themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **SURPRISE BITCH THOUGHT YOU'D SEEN THE LAST OF ME,**  
>   
> 
> h-hi, uh, hello, ,,, ,, it's been a while,,, , happy season 2,, , , sorry i'd been gone for so long, a lot of things happened. Firstly, there's my thesis, which, as I've mentioned, is super close to this fic, and I'd been getting rather severe anxiety from it lately, which is why I'd been avoiding this fic. When it got to a more manageable issue, then came the Fandom Discourse™ and the drama. Boy, that turned me off from VLD fandom entirely. I actually am considering dropping this fic, and producing content entirely, if this keeps up. If you don't hear from this again, it's safe to assume I've abandoned it, thanks to a certain few assholes who don't know how to have a good time, and so decided to not let others have a good time. Fuck. Discourse.
> 
> Anyway, I digress. Please enjoy the chapter.

The best doctors were the ones who knew their limits, worked within them to their utmost, until treatment was beyond their borders, and the would refer them to the next best person they know.

The best doctors were those who didn't bite off more than they could chew.

The best doctors were not cowards who only knew how to hurt themselves.

Shiro remembered the last time he was in an operating room. There had been an accident involving a bus and the van he and his classmates were in, heading back to campus after a day trip to a wildlife rescue centre. The bus had run their van over the concrete barrier at the side of the road and all the passengers on board had serious injuries.

Keith showed up to the hospital in his yoga pants, shirt still wet with sweat. He had just come from his dance class, it seemed, and it made Shiro smile at the thought.

“Shiro! Oh, my god!” Keith ran to keep up with the medical team wheeling Shiro along the corridor towards the emergency ward. “Shiro!”

He was too dizzy, too overcome and practically numb with pain to respond, but he managed to lift his hand slightly to tell Keith he could hear him. Keith was held back by a nurse at the door as Shiro was wheeled into the operating room, and he soon passed out when they put him under.

He woke up much later with stitches all over his body, and Keith passed out on a chair beside his bed, still dressed in his dance clothes and with bed hair that would have earned him endless teasing, but now, Shiro just wanted to run his hands through his hair. He wanted to kiss Keith, reassure himself he was alive, and—

He tried moving his right hand, but nothing happened. He looked down at the stump that came up halfway his bicep, and his blood ran cold.

He remembered the crash. The squeal of tires, the screams of all the people onboard—

He remembered his arm getting caught in the middle of the van’s door and the bumper of the bus, the burning pain of his bones shattering and his muscles tearing, and his world narrowed down to that singular moment, where fear was all he knew, and he thought he was going to _die_ —

“Shiro!” Keith’s voice cut through his panic attack, and Shiro realised he was no longer in a shattered van, but inside a sterile hospital room, with Keith hanging over him, eyes wide with fear and worry that grounded him faster than plummeting to the earth.

“Keith…” he panted, “I…”

“You were having a panic attack.” Keith told him softly, cupping his face in his hands, tears welling up in his eyes. “You’re safe. You’re okay.”

It sounded like he was reassuring himself, mostly, but Shiro was thankful for his words all the same. He forced himself to calm down, taking hiccupping breaths to get them back into control, as he raised his other hand—his _only_ hand—to hold Keith’s as the younger man peppered kisses over his face, pressing his lips to patches of skin miraculously unscathed from the hellish crash.

“M-my arm…” He said, after a long moment of silence, punctuated by their shaky breaths, and Keith nodded slowly as he pulled away from Shiro.

“They had to amputate it.” He said carefully, “It was… ruined in the crash.”

Shiro fought the images of brutality forming in his mind, and swallowed nervously. “I… I figured.” He shivered, and Keith pressed his hand on Shiro’s forehead, reassuring warmth radiating through the biting freeze of his dread and fear and cold sweat. “Baby, I—”

“Shh,” Keith hushed him, pressing their foreheads together. “You’re cold.” He simply said, before leaning further forward to kiss him.

Shiro sighed, exhaling his fatigue into Keith’s mouth as they kissed, wishing he could hug Keith, pull him into his embrace to ground himself, but he kept his arms still. One, to not jostle the IV stuck in his only arm, and the other…

Keith must have felt him flinch, because he flew off him immediately, eyes wide. “I’m sorry, Shiro, are you—”

Shiro shakily shook his head. “I-I’m sorry. No, uh. Your kiss was nice. I just…”

He looked down at the stump that was now his arm, and he sighed. “It’s shocking. To not have anything there for me anymore.”

Keith looked at him with pain in his eyes, and a long, dragging moment of silence lapsed between them before he spoke again.

“Shiro, how does a second chance sound to you?” he asked quietly.

“A second… chance?” He blinked. “Keith, what…”

“A friend of yours called a while back.” Keith rubbed his arm. “I know you don’t like having other people answer your phone but he was persistent. Matt Holt. I remember he was your classmate back in high school.”

“Matt.” Shiro’s eyes widened in realisation as the idea clicked in his brain before Keith could explain it to him.

“Yeah. He told me he was a biomimetics roboticist at MIT? He was really insistent on—”

“Making me an arm.” Shiro finished off, and Keith shut his mouth, nodding stiffly. “Oh, my God. That’s right. Matt, he was developing something…”

“A robotic arm, yeah.” Keith rubbed the back of his neck. “It sounded pretty risky, and you’d go under the knife again, and I—” he cut himself off, shutting his eyes, and Shiro saw beads of tears pearling at the corner of his eyes, catching on his lashes, growing heavy and sagging, but not quite falling yet.

“Hey, don’t cry.” He wished he could tell himself that, though he still reached up with his only hand—not the one he used to wipe Keith’s tears away, but it was the only one he got—to thumb at Keith’s cheek.

“I can’t—I can’t bear thinking about it. You going under the knife again.” Keith confessed quietly, “There’s always some chance of someone messing up, and then you’d _die_ , and—”

“I’m not going to die, it’s…” Shiro winced, tensing up slightly. “It’s my arm.”

“Tonight has showed me how fragile people are. How fragile _you_ are.” Keith pulled him close into a tight hug. “Someone died tonight in that car crash. That could’ve been you.”

He felt a soft kiss press against his temple.

“I don’t want to lose you. That’s worse than dying.” He said brokenly. “ _That could have been you._ ”

The images of fire, of blood, of broken metal and bodies flashed through Shiro’s mind, and he hugged Keith closer. “It wasn’t. It’ll never be.” He said softly, “I’ll never go under the knife again after this, I swear.”

He never did, in hindsight. Matt was thrilled to hear he agreed, and he was nothing but gracious, careful and considerate of them the whole time he installed the arm, taught Shiro how to maintain it, and how it connected his nerves to the system, but most of it flew over his head, not that he minded. He could feel Keith’s hand gingerly curl around his mechanical one, artificially warmed metal against his soft, soft skin, and he smiled gently as he pressed a kiss to his cheek when they were left alone in Matt’s lab while the blond ran off to get something.

“How are you feeling, Shiro?” Keith asked, looking down at Shiro’s hand in his, not meeting his eyes, and Shiro sighed.

“It’s weird.” He admitted. “Cell culture is going to be hell.” Keith looked up at him worriedly, finally meeting his eye, but Shiro smiled and cupped his face in his real hand. He’d been conditioning himself to use his left hand from now on, refusing to touch Keith’s face with his prosthetic, and if Keith had noticed the effort, he never said a word about it.

“Will you be able to finish your thesis?” he asked, and his hand squeezed his, just minutely, and Shiro could imagine the rapid calculations Matt’s brilliant thesis project coming to life at the tiny gesture.

The numbers, flying around in the tiny, tiny processor compartment—pressure, affected area in square inches, _sensation_ —the force that it took to bend the metal _just so_ , response generation, action potential, motor conduction—

 _Reaction_.

His metal hand twitched, and squeezed back. Keith jumped, as if he hadn’t expected it to, and Shiro chuckled softly.

“I think I will.” He said, and he lifted Keith’s hand to kiss his knuckles softly, barely a brush of his lips against Keith’s skin, but the sensation of skin against skin was _everything_ better than metal and simulated sensation. “It’s just like I said before, Keith. I’ll do _everything_ to go to med school.” He chuckled. “And then I’ll save up to help you get a dance studio, and we’ll live together after that. Can you imagine?” He stroked Keith’s cheek tenderly. “You’ll dance every day, however many times you want to, and I get to see you be so, so happy.” Shiro’s voice swelled with emotion, warm and soft and tender, and it felt like he was pouring his entire heart out on Keith, on the _world_ , to see and hear. “And that’s happiness, for me.”

Keith seemed to hesitate, and Shiro laughed awkwardly.

“I mean, if you’ll still have me. Freaky robot arm and all.” He said, lowering his hand from Keith’s face, only to have the younger man catch it, and press it back to his face, where, much to Shiro’s surprise, he could feel wetness. He saw Keith smile past the tears rolling down his face, and his heart skipped a beat.

“I was wondering if you’d still have _me_ , bad headaches and all.” Keith replied, and kissed his hand softly.

Shiro laughed, and kissed him properly, and they could graciously ignore Matt’s well-natured splutters of protest to kiss another time when the blond came back in.

* * *

Later, curled up together in bed, Shiro’s arm under Keith’s head as it always belonged there, the both of them looked right at each other as the midnight hours ticked by.

“I hate hospitals.” Keith said suddenly, the first words he spoke since they settled together in bed that night, tiny and shaky in the silence and the space between their even breaths. “They’re sterile, and cold, and unpleasant.”

Shiro huffed, barely a laugh, but Keith could see the curve of his smile in the silver lines the ribbons of moonlight left on his skin, striping shadows of silver, black, silver, black, thanks to the blinds, and it looked beautiful on Shiro. “I’ll be working in one soon.” he paused. “Eventually.” He amended.

“Soon.” Keith said. “But I don’t like hospitals. People die there. _You_ nearly died there.”

Shiro sighed fondly, and kissed his hair. “Keith, I…”

Keith held him a fraction tighter. “I’m terrified of the prospect of surgery. At the thought people can cut you open and hold your life just like that.” He buried his face into the crook of Shiro’s neck. “I don’t want to go under the knife. I don’t know how you did it.”

“Well, I was anaesthetised to hell and back,” Shiro tried to laugh, but he held Keith closer too. “I promise, Keith. I’ll make sure it’ll never happen to you.” He kissed Keith’s hair. “I’ll take on any knife opening me up if it means you won’t have to.”

“But if I need to?”

“You won’t.” Shiro said, conviction foolish and unwavering, and how his words rang with irony in the years that came. “I’ll make sure of it, I promise.”

Silence answered him for a long moment, before Keith said, “My head hurts.”

“It’s late. We should sleep.”

Keith nodded mutely, and cuddled close to nod off to sleep. Shiro remained awake, staring out into the darkness of their apartment.

Doctors don’t bite off more than they chew, he thought.

Now, sitting alone in his office, dreading the hours that drew closer to the time he would have to talk to Allura about _this_ , Shiro buried his face in his hands as he stared at the CT scans in front of him. Beside it, a paper branded with the name ‘GUNDERSON, PIDGE’, had a hurriedly-scribbled note on it:

_Surgery’s the best bet. CT/MRI can’t do much, so we’re gonna need that biopsy._

A blurred line between Stage 2 and 3 could spell how Keith’s life will go, and he knew they shouldn’t mess it up. That they had to take all the precautions necessary to diagnose him properly, to treat him properly, to make sure he _lived_.

Shiro eyed the open laptop next to him, open on a research journal about temozolomide, and he sighed.

 _Median survival was 16 months,_ he read. _This regimen of concomitant chemoradiotherapy followed by adjuvant chemotherapy may prolong the survival of patients with glioblastoma_.

He knew safe wording when he saw it. ‘ _May_ prolong’ didn’t ever mean ‘ _will_ prolong’, and Shiro knew how aggressive glioblastoma was.

Keith will die, he thought to himself.

Shiro sighed, and he got up, shaking his head as his phone alarmed the start of Allura’s lunch hour.

“No, he will not,” he said, with all the conviction and foolishness in the years before, and left his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The article Shiro is reading is this:  
> Stupp, R., Dietrich, P. Y., Kraljevic, S. O., Pica, A., Maillard, I., Maeder, P., ... & Porchet, F. (2002). Promising survival for patients with newly diagnosed glioblastoma multiforme treated with concomitant radiation plus temozolomide followed by adjuvant temozolomide. _Journal of Clinical Oncology_ , 20(5), 1375-1382.
> 
> So there. Well done, shitty part of fandom, for chasing me off, if ever, and well done for basically doing a lot of unsavoury shit that has driven not only me, but several other content creators up the wall, and, worryingly, to more drastic measures. If y'all need me, I'll be over at twitter at @trickscd, screaming in both English and my native language about Voltron and other fandoms. And maybe even my own novel. Who knows.
> 
> peace out.

**Author's Note:**

> In all seriousness, cancer is truly a terrible disease and I'd like to take this chance to give a shout out to anyone who's had this disease and survived, or loved ones that had cancer and survived. You are amazing people, and I hope you take this wonderful second chance at life by the throat and make the most of it. :)
> 
> A big shout out too, to those still in the progress of fighting cancer. It's a long, uphill road, difficult and unimaginably painful, but please hold on. If not for your loved ones' sakes, for your own. You have a much, much longer life ahead of you, waiting for you to live it. I have you in my thoughts and prayers. Do your best, you're counting on you, and I believe in you!
> 
> And, lastly, to those who have lost someone to cancer. Please never forget them; never forget the fight they gave, and how strong they were in heart up until the very end. I hope they rest in peace, with whatever god you worship, or for those not as religious, just somewhere better. I hope every last patient lost to cancer will never be forgotten, remembered in the happy moments and memories they gave to their loved ones.
> 
> And as a last thing to say: as a researcher and future bona fide scientist, I hope that medicine advances enough to cure cancer as easily as the common cold is. I sincerely hope that someday we'll find a way to step over the obstacle that is cancer, and I hope that research, and any effort I can contribute will be able to help lead medicine forward down that road to a better future.


End file.
